The morgue was a fancy name for the refrigerated room with human-sized cold lockers. It smelled of bleach and death, a repelling combination under any circumstance. Elvis whined pitifully and curled his head into Stinger’s chest. I felt the same way. I was capable of doing another dreamwalk, but I needed the scents of nature to lift my uneasy mood.
Something about this situation wasn’t right, only I couldn’t get a handle on the source of my discomfort. I jammed my hands in my pockets, careful not to touch the walls, doors, or tables in this room.
“Tox screen came back clean. These two weren’t drugged,” the sheriff said.
“Which corroborates my dreamwalk,” I added, wishing my feet hadn’t gone cold inside my work boots. Elvis whimpered in Stinger’s arm. My uneasiness grew to a new level. Something is very wrong.
“What’s the matter?” the sheriff asked.
Did I say that out loud? I was losing it. “I don’t know, but every spidey sense I have is telling me to run out of this room. The dog feels it too.”
“Get a grip, Dreamwalker. Do your job. These bodies are outta here in a few hours, and we won’t get another chance to examine them.”
“I’ll do my job,” I snapped, angry that I’d been pushed into a corner. “Give me a minute to see what’s wrong.”
“I can wait outside,” Stinger offered hopefully.
“Stay put,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “This won’t take long. If I zone out, grab my shoulder like you did in the evidence room.”
Cautiously, I lowered my guard, one hand on the sack of crystals in my pocket, the other on my moldavite necklace. Whatever was after me, I didn’t want to be surprised. The room fogged to an acid yellow. I fanned the mist from my eyes, squinting into the murk. My tattoos heated to the point of pain.
“Who’s there?” I called, walking this way and that in the nothingness.
It’s a trap kept running through my brain and the urge to run from the unknown hammered me. But I hung in there. This was my job, dammit.
“Dreamwalka . . .” an insidious voice rumbled in my head. My sense of humor flared wildly. Must be a Southern ghost with that accent. “You try my patience.”
The last syllable of patience drew out like the hiss of a snake. “Who are you?” I asked, gasping at the instantaneous chill in my body. The very marrow of my bones seemed to have crystallized. Talking became a monumental effort.
“I am many. Your kind isn’t welcome here. The dead must be silenced.”
“Well, Many.” I croaked as boldly as I could, despite the ice crystallizing in my veins. “You have a problem because I’m staying, like my father and his mother before him. This is what we do.”
My energy flared. A bolt of warmth followed. Stinger. Bless him.
“You have been warned,” Many said.
The ground trembled and roiled, an earthquake and a mighty tsunami rolled into one. A howling wind followed. I held my stance, determined not to let this bully win. I would have shouted a reply, but it took all my concentration to remain standing. Fury built within me at the remembrance of playground bullies who’d tormented me because I was a Nesbitt, of service wives who’d shunned me because I didn’t shop at the right stores, of the army and their solid roadblock of red tape regarding my missing husband.
“No.” I stated, fighting the roaring wind to be heard. “I have a right to be here.”
The wind subsided by degrees. Heartened, I continued. “I am a natural being, and this is my place in the order of things.”
The ground quit trembling. “I seek justice for the dead and solace for the living.” My voice sounded stronger, firmer, authoritative. Righteousness drove the arctic chill from my bones, hastened my thready pulse.
I felt a disturbance behind me. Rose? I whirled, half-hoping it was Rose and not another entity with a beef. Half-hoping it wasn’t Rose because it cost me every time we interacted.
“Well done, Dreamwalker,” Rose said in a sulfury blast of air.
“I didn’t summon you,” I stated matter-of-factly. “I’ve got this.”
“You are strong.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am often disappointed.”
I pondered that a moment. Uneasiness swirled within me. “Wait. You did this? You set me up with that, that thing? You expected me to fail?”
“My expectations aren’t the issue. You performed well under pressure.”
“I’m here to learn who killed Marv Kildeer and Belinda Donlin.”
Marv and Belinda appeared behind Rose, their mouths obscured, their eyes dull. “The answers you seek aren’t with the dead. I’ve silenced these mischief-makers.”
“You won’t let me talk to them?”
“You’re needed elsewhere, Dreamwalker. And ease your fears. I will collect on my debt soon.”
Like that would relax me. I feared what she’d do with two hours of my life. “Any chance we can change the terms of our deal?”
Lancing pain radiated from my tattoos, dropping me to my knees. I regretted saying anything, but damned if I would apologize.
“Don’t annoy me, earthling. I own you.”
With that, Rose faded, and the darkness thinned. Cold seeped into my body from the concrete slab floor, and light gradually returned to my field of vision.
My face felt wet. Something sandpapery lathed my chin. Elvis. I tried to reach for him and couldn’t.
Stinger hovered above me. His round face gleamed like polished wood, his dark eyes radiated concern. “Miss Baxley? You okay in there?”
He had a tight grip on my hand. The ceiling looked miles away. The floor pressed against my back. I struggled to get my bearings, but I was too spent to do more than breathe. I’d drained my crystals. I’d drained my energy, too. There would be no more dreamwalks today.
“I’m here,” I managed, my tongue thick in my cotton-dry mouth. “But I’m spent. I need my mom.”
The sheriff leaned over my face. His eyebrows drew together in a stern line. Deep grooves of skin etched his cheeks into his cheekbones. “The bodies. Today.”
I tried to moisten my lips, but my tongue was too dry. “Water.”
A faucet ran. A cup appeared. Stinger lifted my head, and I drank. Funny how good morgue water tasted. Like nectar. Did that make me a god? I would’ve laughed at the notion if I wasn’t six miles past exhausted and my crystals weren’t drained.
“Do your job,” the sheriff said.
He could bluster all he wanted, but I had nothing left. “I saw Bee and Marv on that dreamwalk,” I replied, carefully choosing my words. “The answers we seek are on this side of the veil.”
The sheriff’s face flushed Christmas stocking red. “Don’t go all cryptic on me.”
My eyelids weighed as much as my truck. I couldn’t keep them open. It was too hard. They fluttered shut. “My mom. I need my mom.”